


Some things are clearly universal

by annathecrow



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (2014), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (basically ignores everything after GOTG), AU after Guardians of the Galaxy, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bechdel Test Pass, Bonding over shared experience, Christine Everhart is better than you, Dubious Science, Flirting, Gen, JARVIS is so done with your shit, Negotiations, Quill being Quill, Science Experiments, Tony Stark not being an alien (discussed), Women Being Awesome, hero teams with audacious titles, it's all fun and games until somebody gets beamed across the galaxy, meeting aliens, science with no OSHA compliance, seriously lowered standards for normal, space travel, there is (almost) no drama AND THAT'S THE POINT, trace amount of femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-12 21:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2125428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annathecrow/pseuds/annathecrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“All right,” the woman muttered, pulling herself up to stand straighter. “My name is Maria Hill,” she said, “and I can’t believe I am saying this, but: could you please tell me where we are, and what date is it?”<br/>---<br/>Science experiment gone wrong transports one (1) Maria Hill aboard the Milano, Gamora is amused, and misfit superhero teams are apparently a universe-wide phenomenon. Luckily, all those other people are pretty badass.</p>
<p>(Shhh, don't think about it too hard. This is the superhero genre after all...)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I HAVE NO EXCUSE.
> 
> I saw GotG yesterday. Yet again, there wasn't enough female bonding in my superhero-flavored cinema. And apparently, I am now that person who deals with her media disappointments by writing fics.  
> \---  
>  **EDIT 2017-07-29:** What started as a silly ficlet ended up as a love letter to the "people on the sidelines" of the MCU mythos, and a testament to the fact that I'm _utter shite_ at getting things done. If you're one of the poor souls who was waiting on this: I am sorry. If you're new: have fun!

A blinking alarm popped up in the corner of the display and Gamora poked at it in annoyance. She rubbed her eyes, stood back and surveyed the apparent chaos of data entries in front of her. Quill was right when he said she was more the “stabby stabby” kind of person, but she did understand the importance of intel. After Xandar, she started collecting all information on Thanos and his activities all across the galaxy. Using said information, though... she grimaced. It just didn’t make any sense.

The alarm started blinking again. Gamora switched it off, closed her dataset and turned off the display before it could start nagging her again. It was time to turn in tonight. An important rule in her line of work: don’t loose sleep unless you really have to. The reaction time lost to exhaustion could be the difference between “seriously wounded” and “dead”. Her enhancement could deal with the former, not so much with the latter. Well, as far as she knew, anyway.

She turned towards the sleeping quarters, when a strange “whoosh” followed by a crash sounded behind her. She whipped around, immediately pulling a knife on the figure in front of her.

The woman, by the looks of it one of the more humanoid races, extracted herself from the chair she apparently landed on.

“Doctor Foster, I would appreciate a warning before one of your experiments spills out of the labs and into the corridors. I understand the need for space and Stark’s inability to...” she trailed off once she took in her surroundings.

“Who are you?” Gamora snapped.

The woman looked at her, eyes wide. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. She raised her arms and Gamora scowled at her, lowering her stance. The woman just covered her eyes, her free hand held palm open towards Gamora. She took several long, deep breaths. Then, she peeked through her fingers at Gamora. It looked more comical than anything else. Gamora relaxed.

“All right,” the woman muttered, pulling herself up to stand straighter. “My name is Maria Hill,” she said, “and I can’t believe I am saying this, but: could you please tell me where we are, and what date is it?”

Gamora hesitated. But then, there wasn’t anything to lose by that. “You are on board of the Milano, the current headquarters of, ah, the Guardians of the Galaxy.” the title still didn’t sit right on the lips, a bit too pompous, a bit too... much. But, well. Accepting a name given by the enemy was a custom of many races, after all.

The woman, Hill, blinked at her. “And where, exactly, is this ship right now?” she asked carefully.

“We are orbiting Arcturus IV,” Gamora answered. “In the Arcturus system,” she supplied without prompting when she saw Hills eyebrow shoot half way to her hairline.

Hill stared at her for a moment, then slowly turned in place, taking a long look around her. She pinched her nose. “If this is some kind of elaborate practical joke, I have to tell you, it’s a damn good work.” She shook her head and turned back to Gamora. “By any chance, do you know a planet called Earth?”

Gamora laughed. Without taking her eyes off Hill, she yelled at the top of her lungs: “Quill!!! You really want to come here! Right now!!!”

###

Of course, things ended with the whole team congregating in the main cabin - Rocket rushing in first with some suspect piece of weaponry, Quill, of course, last, after Drax, Rocket going back for Groot and his pot, and finally Rocket kicking him out of his bed.

When he finally appeared, he blinked at Hill blearily. “...how did a sexy chick get on the ship?”

Hill shot him a death glare and turned to Gamora with an imploring look. Some things, Gamora mused, were clearly universal. She decided she rather liked the woman.

She quickly relayed their conversation to the rest of the team. Quill was badly hiding his curiosity, Rocket was dubious, Drax looked stoic as usual, and Groot was Groot.

“Would you be able to get me back to Earth?” Hill asked once the explanations were over.

“Able? Yes. Willing? Weeeeell...” Quill shrugged. “We’re not exactly good samaritans here, if you know what I mean.”

“We are the Guardians of the Galaxy.” Drax spoke up. “We have defeated Ronan the Accuser, and saved the people of Xandar from annihilation,” he said solemnly.

Hill looked at them with an interesting expression of horrified recognition. Gamora guessed there was a story behind it, and she was suddenly very curious about it.

“Yeah, that, too,” Quill allowed with a nod.

Hill considered him for a moment. “How much?” she asked.

Quill grinned. “Fifty thousand.”

“Fifty thousand of wh... no, never mind,” Hill said, waving her arm. She closed her eyes and pinched her nose again. It was obviously a gesture of frustration. Gamora could relate to that. Quill could be very frustrating.

Hill looked up again. “Do you trade with Asgardians?” she asked tentatively.

“Uuuuh...” Quill stalled. He looked at the others desperately.

“Yes, we do,” Gamora answered quickly.

Hill exhaled, looking relieved. “One of my... associates is Thor, prince of Asgard. I am sure he will be able to negotiate suitable payment. Once we are on Earth, of course,” she added, giving Quill a pointed look.

Quill smiled at her sweetly. “So, a deal?” he offered a hand for a handshake.

“A-HEM!” coughed Rocket loudly. “...team?!” he gestured around when Quill turned to him.

“Ohhh, right...” Quill had the decency to look sheepish. “So, are we going to take the nice lady to to Terra and make easy money on this milk run?” he looked at the rest of his teammates. “Come on, it will look good on our resume,” he wheedled, “Helping lost souls, right under Saving the universe...”

“I am Groot,” Groot piped up for the first time in the whole conversation. Hill obviously haven’t noticed Groot yet, and now she stared at the creature with slightly glazed eyes. Gamora was feeling almost sorry for the woman.

“So?” Quill prompted again.

Gamora shrugged. “Why not. Do we have a better place to be?”

“Hey, don’t look at me like that.” Rocket threw his arms up. “I never refuse easy money. Drax?”

Drax shrugged. “I have heard stories of the warrior Thor. I would like to meet him.”

“All right!” Quill grinned widely. “Do we have a deal?” he asked Hill again.

She shook his hand. “We do.”

###

The route, it turned out, wasn’t even that long. Terra was a backwater planet, but not more than a day of leisurely travel away.

“The tricky part is to avoid the border patrols,” Quill explained. “There is some kind of rats’ nest of peace treaties, space claims, “hands off” pacts and even shadier deals around the area, which means everybody keeps their hands off of it, just to be on the safe side. Well, aside from folks like the Ravagers.” He turned to Gamora. “Maybe the Asgardians have done that?”

She shrugged. “Perhaps... there was some turf war of theirs waged on Terra hundreds of years ago. That’s all I know.”

“You never tried to come back?” Rocket asked Quill. Quill made a vague gesture. “Nah... never found the right time, I guess.” Rocket just eyed him dubiously. “Yeah, right...”

Gamora turned to look at their visitor-turned-client. Hill was sitting at the table, hands clasped together in front of her. She was mostly silent, carefuly examining her surroundings or watching the team squabble over the controls. Right now she was just looking at her folded hands, deep in thought. Overall, she looked surprisingly put together for someone who just traveled across the galaxy.

Gamora stood up and went to sit beside her. Hill looked up and smiled at her. Gamora smiled back instinctively, but smirked when she caught herself doing it. “I think you might be mistaken,” she told the woman. Hill looked at her intently, expression suddenly wary. “You see me as the most normal member of my team. That is very far from truth.”

That apparently amused Hill. “Don’t worry, my standards for normal are very low,” she chuckled.

“Your... associates?” Gamora asked, giving in to her curiosity.

“Yeah. They call themselves... the Avengers.” She winced at the title a little. “It’s all very new. We had an alien attack a year or so ago, that’s when the team got together.” She shrugged. “There were tensions. There still are tensions. We have a marksman, a spy, a temporarily displaced super-soldier, a god in voluntary exile, two guys in a flying suit and third with honest to god artificial wings...” she shook her head and smiled ruefully.

“That... sounds familiar,” Gamora chuckled.

Hill shot a look towards the cockpit. “Yeah, I suppose it might,” she laughed.

“We have a warrior who doesn’t understand metaphor, a genius rodent with an attitude problem, and a talking tree,” Gamora said dryly. “And Quill.”

Hill snorted. “Tell me, he isn’t a son of someone named Tony Stark, isn’t he?” she asked.

“Not if this Stark isn’t also a mysterious alien,” Gamora replied.

Hill burst out laughing. “God, I hope not!” She shook her head. “I don’t know if that’s actually comforting or not.”

They sat in companionable silence for a while.

“You and your team are one of the friendlier aliens I have met so far,” Hill said.

“Is it compared to the aliens that attacked you?” Gamora asked with a smirk.

Hill just laughed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continued adventure of Jane and The Machine, featuring Darcy Lewis, an Asgardian, and an awful lot of science babble.

There is a loud “WHOOMP”, the beam shuts down, and the spot in the hallway, marked out with black tape, is empty.

In the sudden silence, The Machine plinks melodically as it starts to cool down.

“Oh, shit.” Darcy says, with feeling.

Jane startles out of her shock and whips around to look at the second marked out spot, this one in the farthest corner of the lab. (Small lab. Too small. How was she even supposed to work in such a small lab.)

She looks at it and waits. And waits.

The spot stays stubbornly empty.

“Did we just kill our boss?” Darcy asks.

Jane ignores her, because the real question is, where did Hill go? However complicated the science behind it, the way The Machine works is simple: aim beam at a cube of space anchored to solid ground, and anything inside that cube is transported to the specified destination, an equally-sized cube anchored to solid ground. (For a specific definition of “solid ground”, and of course, the actual process is exponentially more complicated... but Jane can simplify her work for normal humans, thank you very much.)

“I’m not ready to become a murderer, Jane. Can they even convict you when there’s no body? And where’s Wilbur?” Darcy babbles.

Well, that’s actually a good question. Wilbur the mouse, their current experimental subject and an experienced traveller, is also gone, together with Ms Hill (-- Maria, Jane corrects herself. Knowing she just disappeared somebody she’s on first-name-basis with doesn’t exactly help the growing horror she feels.)

But. Wilbur. He’s not where he should be, ergo... Jane hurries to The Machine and delves deep into its bowels.

“What are we looking for?” Darcy asks, looking over Jane’s shoulder.

“Miscalibration,” Jane bites off, distracted.

“Uh huh,” Darcy hums. “Oooooh, I’m pretty sure this bit shouldn’t be here!” she crows, leans over Jane and pokes at a thin blue jumper wire in a tangle over one of the (many, many) breadboards.

“Oh no,” Jane says in a tiny voice. Trigger loop. A loop making the trigger signal for the power source trigger itself, and multiply the resultant power. Most likely exponentially.

Well, at least now she knows why The Machine took so long to load.

She chides herself for that bit of self-satisfaction, because exponential power! Where on Earth did they send Maria Hill???

A chill creeps up her spine. On Earth...?

She rushes to the laptop controlling the sensor array - well, that might be something of a fancy word for a pile of hand-made electronics taped to the floor in equal distances from The Machine to the point of departure. (Again. Small lab. She needed that additional meter to get that one more sensor in, and how could she even know anybody would be coming???)

She checks the last log, compares them with the previous sets, does some quick math in her head...

“Give me your laptop,” she tells Darcy, already frantically looking for it in the mess on the lab tables.

“Wait, what, why?”

“Because I need a map of space.”

“WE SENT OUR BOSS TO SPACE???” Darcy screams.

Somehow, that scream is when it all finally registers.

Jane stops in the middle of the lab, feeling like a deflated balloon.

“Yeah, Darcy, we just sent Maria about thirty six light-years, somewhere that way.” She waves vaguely in the direction of the destination mark. “Or, to the nearest solid ground.” She takes a deep breath. “Who knows what even is out there.” She can’t make herself say aloud the second part of that thought: whatever there is, it’s most likely impossible to survive for a human.

“Would Thor know?” Darcy asks, bizarrely latching to the least important part of that sentence.

“Probably,” Jane frowns.

“...but he’s having a tea party with the other Avengers, or something, right. Would some other Asgardian know?”

“Yes, Darcy, they probably would, but how is that even--”

Darcy ignores her. Instead, she looks toward the ceiling, and starts jumping up and down, arms flailing. “HEEEEEYYYYY, HEIMDALL!!! YOU THERE???? WE NEED TO ASK SOMETHING!!!!”

For a moment, Jane can’t do anything else but stare.

Darcy stops the production and shrugs. “What? Can’t hurt to try!”

Well.

Actually.

Darcy squawks when Jane grabs her arm and pulls her out of the lab towards the staircase, but Jane’s mind is already too many steps ahead to notice.

 

###

 

The golden splendor of Heimdall’s observatory appears around them, and to be honest, Jane can’t believe this actually worked. She turns around, taken in by the beauty of the structure and awed by the depths of space outside the window, just like the first time she was here.

“Welcome again to Asgard, Lady Jane,” Heimdall welcomes her. “And you... Darcy.”

Darcy waves at him over her phone, already furiously clicking and taking photos of everything. “You didn’t tell me the all-seeing guardian of the Bifrost was hot,” she stage-whispers towards Jane. The sadly familiar second-hand embarrassment shakes Jane out of her awe, and she turns to the guardian.

“Heimdall, a... friend of ours was caught in an accident. Her name is Maria Hill. Maybe Thor have mentioned her to you? Please, could you help us find her?” She feels the shame rise into her throat, but she powers through it. “I made a mistake, and I have caused her harm. I want to know if there is anything left to do.”

Heimdall looks at her for a moment, and just as the first time they met, she feels like a specimen under a microscope. Then, he nods. “Very well. I shall look for this Maria Hill.”

He turns aside and his look grows distant. A moment later, some tension of his body slips away. “Your friend is alive and unharmed.”

Jane can’t believe her ears. But: “Where is she???”

Heimdall just raises a hand. “A moment, please.”

Jane watches him watch something far away, and waits. And waits. After a while, she sits awkwardly on the edge of the central platform. The moment grows longer, and the initial joy is slowly squashed by rethinking the events. (Events that should have ended badly. That could still end badly. Who knows where Maria actually is...)

Darcy abandons snapping photos of everything from the golden decor to the panorama of Asgard, and sits down next to her. “Smile!” she commands, and takes a selfie with Jane, Heimdall’s legs in the background.

She bumps their shoulders together. “Congratulations, we didn’t kill anybody today!”

“Yeah,” Jane agrees weakly.

“Cool. That would suck. I kinda expected my first victim to be an alien, or some grabby terrorist asshole, not the lady who offered to foot my iTunes bill if I stop trying to hack her facebook account. Besides, she still haven’t told me why does a spy even have a facebook account. What would she even write there? ‘I’m enjoying REDACTED with REDACTED at REDACTED?’ Do you think she’s hardcore into Farmville, or something?”

Jane sighs. “Darcy. Just... shut up.”

Darcy wraps her arm around Jane’s shoulders and thunks her head against Jane’s. “Uh huh. Come on, Jane. Don’t tell me you’re not curious. I don’t believe your science brain can resist the mystery.”

I almost killed a person today, Jane thinks. (Accidentally, but how does that matter? That doesn’t make a person any less dead.)

“Lady Jane,” Heimdall rumbles and startles Jane out of her stupor. “Your friend is safe, and she is on her way towards Earth. However,” he continues before Jane can feel relieved, “she is accompanied by a group of individuals with rather... original background and occupation. They call themselves the Guardians of the Galaxy.” He says it as if that explains everything. (It really doesn’t.) “I am worried their arrival to Midgard might cause... commotion,” he finishes the sentence with a grimace.

Jane considers the news. “Okay. Um. You are saying we need a welcoming committee. Do we call the Avengers?”

Darcy turns to her, eyebrows raised. “Jane, really?” she whispers.

“That might not be the right choice,” Heimdall says at the same time. “I would recommend someone more... committed to the art of dialogue,” he says diplomatically. “Although they do not like to hear it, warriors cannot be trusted in these matters.”

Darcy nods enthusiastically. “Seriously. They have a team name!” she gesticulates wildly. “Have you ever read a comic book? Baaaaaaad idea.”

Jane thinks, winces when the first person she remembers is the one currently out in space, and thinks some more.

“In Asgard, Lady Frigga used to be the arbitrator in these encounters,” Heimdall says, voice somber.

Jane hums. She turns to Darcy: “Do you still have that number for Ms Potts?”

“Oooooh, good one!” Darcy grins. She whips out her phone, pokes at it, and makes a sad face. “Oh, right, no coverage in Asgard.”

Jane turns to Heimdall and he nods. “Do you want to return to your labor or would you like me to send you directly to Pepper Potts?”

“Isn’t she in New York with the Avengers?” Jane asks.

“She is not. I see her in a large office building in Los Angeles.”

Jane considers it. “Then yes, that would probably be easier.”

Heimdall motions them to step up onto the platform. He uses his sword as an over-sized key and activates the Bifrost mechanism. The machine hums louder and louder, preparing for launch. (Just like The Machine. A-hah! One for Midgardian science.)

“Wait!” Darcy exclaims. “I need to ask something!”

The machine sighs into a stop. “Yes?” Heimdall asks.

“So, you can really see everything?” Darcy begins.

“Yes,” Heimdall answers warily.

“ Even inside houses, behind closed doors, like that?”

“...yes.”

“And you do have some free time when you don’t have to look at, I don’t know, dangerous aliens planning to invade Asgard, or something like that?” Darcy’s eyes are lit up with glee. Oh no, Jane thinks, because she has some very scarring memories that started with that expression on Darcy’s face.

“Yes, that I can,” Heimdall sighs, obviously steeling himself against the next question.

Jane arrives at the same conclusion the moment later. “Darcy...” she pleads, but it is too late. Darcy takes a breath and asks the question.

“Do you watch kittens?”

Jane’s train of thought grinds to a halt. Heimdall blinks.

“I mean, we’ve invented an entire communication technology to spend hours looking at kittens,” Darcy continues. “I mean, besides other things,” she waves her hand vaguely in the air.

“Kittens,” Heimdall repeats, slowly.

“Yeah! Baby cats? Small, fluffy things...”

“I do understand what you mean. But... no. That has not occurred to me.”

Darcy looks positively heartbroken. “No? How? They’re adorable! And hilarious! I’ve seen this video where--”

“Heimdall, could you, please?” Jane talks over her loudly. “We should probably be on our way.”

“Wait, no!” Darcy squeaks. Heimdall activates the Bifrost again. The hum is louder and louder, drowning out Darcy’s attempts to finish her story...

...and then they’re standing on a roof of a building. The sun is low above the horizon and the sky is a slow gradient from pink to yellow to indigo blue. Oh, right, timezones, Jane thinks. (Not that she’s too sure what time it was back at the lab, to be completely honest.)

Darcy yelps and jumps aside. Next to her, and on several other places, a round pillar rises from the roof. From inside the building, a loud alarm starts to blare.

Darcy turns to Jane with wide eyes. “Uh, do you think Stark maybe has some security installed?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession: not only I didn't plan to continue the original fic, I didn't really plan the fic _itself_ , either. I now have some vague idea where I want to end up and how to get there, but... well. So much handwaving, guys. _So much._
> 
> I apologize to anybody who hoped for a "Avengers meet Guardians of the Galaxy" story, because this is going to be something else. There will be an awful lot of MCU ladies, though.
> 
> Darcy's idea is a bit of fanon from Tumblr (where else).
> 
> (And a thank you goes to VenueWings for poking me to continue this, because lets be honest: I probably wouldn't, otherwise.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The part where people talk to other people, as told by Col. James Rhodes. Also, aliens (discussed).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contrary to all evidence, this fic is not dead.

The new Stark Industries building in Los Angeles was a perfect example of ‘Stark style’ - all glass and light and minimalistic floor plans, as much a product of the PR department as Tony’s or Pepper’s personal tastes. Jim supposed it was a good fit for a company who essentially sold ‘future’, but as he walked through its corridors, he was also really glad he didn’t have to work in this fish tank.

He reached Pepper’s office and stopped in front of the door. Through the glass, he could see Pepper stand before her desk with a phone at her ear. After a moment, the glass door flickered, briefly displayed Jim’s credentials, and finally slid aside to let him through.

“Welcome, Colonel Rhodes,” JARVIS spoke up.

“Hi, JARVIS.” Jim waved at Pepper and she waved back, sending him an apologetic smile. “How’s the new digs?”

“Satisfactory, Colonel. The setup of the control systems is progressing smoothly, although there have been some... issues with the automatic defense system. That said, Sir would like me to assure everyone that pigeons will not be considered enemy combatants in the future.”

Jim chuckled. “Calibration issues, JARVIS - it can happen to anyone.”

“Apparently so, Colonel,” the AI answered dryly.

Pepper put away her phone and welcomed Jim with a hug. “James, so nice to see you again. Can you give me a minute? I need to make one more call.”

Jim smiled. “Sure, go ahead.”

Pepper sighed and scrolled through her phone. “Maria Hill isn’t taking my calls.” She looked at Jim over her shoulder. “Have you met Maria Hill yet?”

Jim thought about it. “Brunette, tall and high heels, smiles like something with too many teeth?”

Pepper chuckled. “Don’t say that to her face. Or, better yet, do - somewhere I can watch.”

“Well thank you very much,” Jim snarked.

Pepper put the phone to her ear and tapped her foot impatiently. The frown on her face grew as she waited for the call to connect.

“Huh,” she said after a long moment, looking worried. “Maria is visiting SI’s new research center so I thought I’d try calling directly Dr Foster’s lab. But nobody is picking up there, either.”

“Dr Foster, the astrophysicist? She probably just got too deep into her work and didn’t hear the phone,” Jim tried to reassure her.

“She might, but both her and her intern?” she asked, doubtful.

“Do you want me to take the suit and go check it out?” Jim offered.

Pepper pursed her lips and thought for a moment, but shook her head.

“If it was an attack, I would know by now. No point getting up in arms over something that might turn out to be a dead phone and a couple of absent-minded scientists.” She shoved her phone into her bag. “Now,” she smiled at Jim, “I think I have been promised dinner, gossip, and as little talk of threats to world peace as possible.”

Jim smiled back and offered her an arm. “I am certainly going to try.”

They didn’t make it further then halfway towards the elevator. Alarm started to blare and blinking warnings appeared on several glass panels around them.

They froze in the middle of the hallway. “Pigeons?” Jim asked doubtfully.

Pepper turned toward one of the displays. “JARVIS, show us the security feed,” she ordered. The panel obligingly displayed what appeared to be a view of the roof. Two women were standing amongst an array of... well, Jim couldn’t say for sure, but he’d guess they weren’t sprinklers.

“JARVIS, stop!” Pepper cried out. “That’s Jane Foster and her intern!”

“Defensive measures deactivated,” JARVIS answered. On the screen, the pillars started to lower themselves again. “The defense system was not designed for the possibility of civilians appearing directly on the roof, without passing through surrounding airspace. Is this a possibility that needs to be considered in the future?” Jim felt a wave of sympathy towards the AI, who sounded equal parts cranky and embarrassed.

He exchanged a bewildered look with Pepper.

“How did they get there?” Pepper voiced their shared thought.

Rhodey shrugged. “Why don’t we ask them?”

“Right.” Pepper shook herself. “JARVIS, show them to my office, please.”

The moment the women entered the room, both Pepper and one of them started to talk at the same time.

“Dr Foster! How did you get onto the roof?” “Ms Potts, we need your help!”

There was an awkward moment of silence, but then the woman, apparently Dr Foster, continued. “Um. Through Asgard, actually.” She looked at Jim, and then at the younger woman, supposedly the intern. After a lot of eyebrow waggling and exaggerated expressions, she turned to Pepper again. “Ms Potts, I... we really need your help. It’s... uh...”

“...a matter of world security?” supplied the intern.

Pepper looked at Rhodey with a pained expression. “How about we start with introductions, and then you can explain what exactly is the problem?”

The problem, as it turned out, was aliens.

“...and so we decided to ask you for help.” Dr Foster finished. “We didn’t expect Colonel Rhodes to be here. Heimdall thought we should avoid ‘the warriors’ for the first contact,” she made the quotes with her fingers and gave Jim an apologetic look.

Jim shook his head. “I’m never gonna get used to this,” he muttered under his breath.

“Being talked about in the third person? Yeah, I hate that too,” Darcy Lewis told him.

Jim turned to stare at her. “I meant the aliens.”

“Oh, that! Yeah, it takes a while,” she nodded sagely.

“So... you do this often?” Jim asked, morbidly curious.

“Kinda...” she shrugged. “So there was Thor,” She counted on her fingers, “then Thor’s friends, then the Destroyer if you count that as an alien even though it was technically a robot or something, and then the Dark Elves. I missed the Chitauri, but, eeeh.” She made a rocking gesture with her palm. “Not much of a fan of general mayhem, anyway. Oh, yeah, and now Heimdall.” She gave him a brilliant smile. “That was awesome! Jane still holds the record, though.”

Jim looked at the girl for a long moment. Oh, right - this kid in colorful knitwear had more experience with aliens than him. Heck, probably more then the rest of the world combined.

Jim shook his head. “I’m never gonna get used to this.”

That wasn’t the big issue, though. “Pepper, tell me you’re not actually thinking about it. I mean, first contact with aliens? That is a job for the Avengers, if there ever was one.”

Pepper made a pinched expression. “They do have a point, James - remember what happened when Tony met Thor for the first time?”

“That was a misunderstanding--”

“That was two people used to solve their problems with weapons.” Pepper made a frustrated sound. “You said these... people, for the lack of better word, are supposed to be friendly?” she asked Dr Foster.

“Well, yes,” Jane said, unsure. “I mean, Heimdall didn’t say they were dangerous. And they are bringing Maria back to Earth...”

Jim turned to Pepper and gestured wordlessly.

Pepper rubbed her eyes. “How long do we have before they arrive?” she asked Dr Foster.

The scientist winced. “I... don’t really know,” she admitted. She did a facepalm. “We forgot to ask the important questions.”

“Awww, you just got excited that you didn’t become the first person to commit murder by inter-dimensional travel,” Lewis patted her on the shoulder. “That happens!”

Judging from Jane’s pained look, it wasn’t much of a consolation.

“If I may,” JARVIS spoke up, “I was able to analyze data from several space monitoring stations across the planet, and I located an object that might be the ship in question.”

“Dude, I’m pretty sure that’s actually illegal,” Lewis said, but Dr Foster shushed her. “Do you have enough data to compute its speed?” she asked eagerly.

“The ETA is 7.35 hours.” JARVIS answered the unasked question. “A very rough estimation, of course, as it doesn’t take into account any changes in speed,” he added primly.

“That means we have at least seven hours to decide what to do,” Pepper said with relief. “In the mean time...” she turned to Jim, “what do you think about including Dr Foster and Miss Lewis into our dinner plans?”

Jim shrugged helplessly. “I’ll call the restaurant.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *lies on the floor* I never wanted to be that writer with the dead fic, guys. But here we are.
> 
> This chapter is a lot of setup and not much else, I'm sorry. I tried.
> 
> And I know we writers are not supposed to whine in these, but... arrrrghh, the plot of this thing is kicking my ass. Whenever I come up with something I like, I find a plot hole the size of Manhattan in it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a woman meets aliens in the desert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you surprised this fic updated? Yeah, me too.

Some people say that to really make it in the world, you need a dash of luck.

That is bullshit.

To make it in the world, you need to work hard, ignore the haters, and when you see an opportunity, _take it_. Luck will get you a dropped quarter. Working an opportunity will get you a ride in a spaceship.

But wait, back up, rewind. Imagine this: a shabby, off-brand gas station in the middle of nowhere, night. An empty parking lot holds a single, nondescript dark gray car, covered in road dust. Inside the gas station store, a beautiful blonde stares into a freezer.

The blonde is Christine Everhart, an investigative reporter currently working for Vanity Fair, who knows very well how good she looks, thank you very much. In the freezer, there are two bottles of the one brand of energy drink she absolutely hates, because _of course_ they are. If another jovial manchild with a wilting career says something about “the famous Everhart luck”, she’s going to shove her dictaphone up his ass. If she was lucky, she wouldn’t have ended up here, paying way too much for a bottle of water and a handful of stale granola bars. And yet, here she is, in the middle of nowhere.

She pays, takes her things, and walks out into the parking lot. The night changes the oven that is the Route 15 into a cool, silent place. Like a church, she could say, if she wanted to be poetic. Not that she does, mind you, since she’s there at _effing two in the morning_.

She throws the granola bars on the passenger seat of her rental and takes a long swig from the water bottle. She doesn’t even bother to close the door and walks across the parking lot to stretch her legs. Her body is one big cramp. How very surprising, after spending a day on high heels and half a night behind the wheel. And, of course, her _everything_ is rumpled. She actually _liked_ this skirt.

She reaches the end of the parking lot. From there, it’s miles and miles of bone-dry earth, towards a hint of hills on the horizon. The edge of the tarmac is crumbling and blurred with a layer of dust. She steps right onto it, heels on tarmac and toes on dirt, and stares out into the darkness. The spray of stars glint from above.

Alright, so maybe she _is_ feeling a little poetic. After all, she had hours to cool down since she rage-quit that convention and drove off towards the East Coast. Speaking of which: she really needs to find a new niche, because seriously? She’s _done_ with all the rich engineering wonderboys. They’re worse than the Hollywood hopefuls, and ohhh, she can’t believe she’s saying that. At least those _love_ to talk about themselves. Not like some genius with three doctorates who decides that oh, he’d rather not come to the meeting with the journalist, yes, the one that took months to arrange, and of course, why bother letting her know in advance!

“Asshole.” She kicks the ground, which just covers her already grimy sneakers with a layer of fine dirt. Yuck. She really needs to buy new driving shoes.

She goes back to sit in her car and chew on her granola bar. She gets barely a bite of it when she notices the sound. At first, she thinks it’s just a car on the highway – it has that deep, melodic purr of an expensive engine. But then it shifts and it’s nothing like it, buzzing like a huge power line transformer.

Oh, and it comes from above.

She cranes herself out of the car to look for the plane, or whatever it is. She even remembers she needs to correct for the speed-of-sound delay, for once. That’s when she realizes it doesn’t move.

“...the what?”

She’s out of the car before she even thinks about it. What the heck is hovering over California desert at 2am? If that is a helicopter she eats her favorite Jimmy Choos; The army is still scrubbing monitoring equipment off the quinjets commandeered from SHIELD’s airfields; the Wakanda Corp. quadcopter is still stuck in licensing hell, so what...

...oh yeah, bright blue lights, and the sound is getting louder, _fast._

She lunges to the car for her phone and hits the record button just as it roars overhead, over the gas station and towards a wide patch of bone dry desert.

The thing looks like nothing she’s ever seen before. It’s... some kind of an elaborate delta wing, like one of those 90s stealth aircrafts. But it moves like a helicopter! It disappears behind the station, and a moment later the ground shakes as it lands.

The engine powers down. The sudden silence is deafening.

Christine takes a shaky breath, and thinks: Well, fuck. Then she runs toward the ship, of course.

It’s not far, just on the other side of the gas station. She passes the building and here it is, lit up like a Christmas tree. Bright blue lights – probably engines? It looks like repulsor tech, so maybe it’s one of Stark’s new toys. But the paint job looks nothing like it – Tony likes his reds and golds, but this thing is like a Swedish hockey fan, blue and yellow all over.

She switches the phone from video to camera and takes as many photos as possible. She _really_ hopes that at least a few of them will be good enough for print, because this? This could be big. If this is Stark’s, it’s _secret_ , and if it isn’t, there might be a whole new player on the field. Screw Vanity Fair, if she can spin this right, she could hit every news outlet across the country.

The ship sits at an awkward angle to the ground. Did it crash? No, wait – she gets closer and sees the landing gear. So it’s intended to be like that, with the tail aimed towards the sky.

And then she’s there. Somehow, it seems bigger than it should be – it looks like a toy with it’s pretty lights and bright colors. The air around it smells like ozone and it gives off an almost imperceptible wave of heat, like a just-parked car. She really, really hopes it’s not radiation, but hey, too late for that now. Oh, she could almost touch the thing. The metal hull is scuffed, but not scratched. She walks around, zooming in on every detail. Come on, baby, there should be... yes! Every aircraft she’s ever seen up close was covered in a litany of do’s and don’ts, and here they are. That should tell her what she’s dealing with.

Only it _doesn’t_ , because what is this? Is this even _writing_? And alright, foreign affairs has never been her strong suit, but she’s pretty sure this isn’t an alphabet of any country she’s ever heard of.

She’s finally reached the front of the ship. She looks up and sees a large glass dome – a cockpit?

Somebody is looking back down at her.

There is a minute when it’s just an endless staring contest. In the front two seats, a guy and a girl... is the girl covered in _green bodypaint_? Someone leans over the the green chick’s shoulder and Christine smiles, because this all suddenly makes _much_ more sense.

“Hello, Maria!” she waves at her. From what she can see at this distance, Maria is making the face she usually makes when she’s forced to deal with Christine in a professional setting. Christine grins. This will be fun.

The green girl scowls at her. The guy in the front seat smiles and waves back. He has that bad puppy look of a guy who really wants to look cool, but is actually a giant mess. And dammit, she thought she kicked the habit, but no – he’s kind of adorable.

The cockpit glass rolls down like a car window and they all step out onto the nose of the ship, then down on the ground. Not exactly the most practical exit, but maybe the ship has a loading bay. Somewhere.

It turns out that Maria, the boy, and the green girl aren’t the only passengers. After them, out comes a mountain of a man covered with what Christine really hopes is also body paint, and... a raccoon? With a gun???

The raccoon points the gun at her. Seriously??? It’s a really _big_ gun.

“Who are you?” the raccoon asks.

What. The. Fuck.

“What. The. Fuck.” She hears herself say. Well, there goes her brain-to-mouth filter.

Maria turns to the creature and waves her arm in a placating gesture. “Please, put the gun down. She’s not dangerous... much.”

The green girl’s frown turns from vaguely displeased to suspicious, and Christine is pretty glad it’s aimed at Maria and not her. “Do you know this woman?”

Maria makes the kind of face Christine usually sees on PR people when they’re about to say something they know will sound bad, and they really hope she will let them explain. Huh.

“Well... yes, but I didn’t know she would be here,” Maria says, and oh! That sounded almost pleading! Is the world ending? This is getting more and more interesting by the second.

Maria turns to her. “Christine, what are you doing here?” she asks sternly.

Christine shrugs, innocent as you please. “Luck, I guess. What is this, Maria? Is it Stark’s? And who are these people?”

“Where are we?” the gray dude speaks, ignoring Christine completely. “This place looks extremely inhospitable. Is your whole planet like this?”

Wait, what? “Planet? He’s joking, right? Wait... are these guys aliens?” Christine looks around the group. Alright, these people wouldn’t be out of place a scifi paperback. But really?

Then she looks at Maria. Yep, that is the I-didn’t-want-you-to-know-that face. “That’s none of your business, Christine,” Maria says.

Holy shit. _They’re really aliens._

“Speaking of business,” the raccoon pipes up – and really, is interrupting people okay in outer space? “When are we getting paid?”

Maria grimaces. “Look, I will just make a call and then we can get out of here, okay? Give me a moment. And don’t get friendly with the lady, she bites.” She walks a few steps aside and leaves the rest of them to stare at each other.

“Your jaw doesn’t look strong enough to give any damage by biting,” the gray guy announces gravely.

There is a collective groan from the the rest. “It’s a figure of speech, Drax,” the boy pats him on the shoulder – or his bicep, but anyway. “She doesn’t actually bite... or do you?” he smiles at Christine. Awww. And come on, can you even resist a straight line like that? “No... unless somebody asks, of course.”

The boy lights up like a light bulb. “How about some introductions? Hi, I’m Starlord, but you can call me Peter. Mr Literal here is Drax, the fuzzball is Rocket, and the... um...” the green girl narrows eyes at him and he swallows whatever description he was going to use, “...is Gamora. And we,” he spreads his arms theatrically, “are the Guardians of the Galaxy.”

She’s sure she’d come up with some brilliant reaction to that statement, if she didn’t hear Maria’s hissed “Dammit.” It’s clearly not meant for their ears, but Christine wouldn’t be where she is if she didn’t react to distress like a shark to blood in the water.

“Everything alright there?” she calls out to Maria. Maria ignores her, and keeps waving the phone above her head as discreetly as possible – which is to say, not a tall.

“What, I thought SHIELD phones have coverage everywhere?”

Maria makes a face. “Not since we self-destructed the satellite network to keep it out of Hydra’s hands, they don’t.”

“Mmmm,” is all Christine says to that. “Would you like to borrow mine?”

Maria’s eyebrows climb almost to her hairline. “Oh, ye of little faith.” Christine shakes her head. “See? Whole three bars.” She holds up her phone, a sleek, brushed-metal slate barely thicker than a credit card, in Maria’s direction.

“How does _that_ work?” Maria asks.

Christine hums. “Mmm, let me think – first, you spend a lot of time among the rich and important. Then, you meet the king of Wakanda and impress him so much he offers you a nice, private consultancy deal.” She smiles angelically and hands Maria the phone.

Maria’s lips twitch in a fleeting expression of distaste. And you know what? That actually hurts. “I did not sleep with him,” Christine spits, before she can stop herself. “We talked about US foreign policy and the state of weapons’ industry after Stark turned vigilante and cancelled his weapons division. Apparently an award-winning journalist with years of experience in the field has some insight into the situation.” She shoves the phone at Maria. “You want it or not?”

Maria takes it and turns away to make the call. Before she does, though, she pauses with a bland expression on her face. “Sorry,” she says curtly, without meeting Christine’s eyes. Then she stomps away before Christine has a chance to reply. Not that she knows what she’d say. ‘congratulation on gaining self-awareness in your internalized misogyny’, maybe. She’s _not_ whoring herself to get what she wants. She likes sex, so what? But she does have her standards. Okay, not that T’Challa would be bellow those, quite high above them, actually – evidence in question, Tony Stark – but that’s beside the point. The point is, she is a professional, and getting this from Maria, of all people? Not cool.

Christine watches Maria dial a number and wait with the phone at her ear. After a few long seconds, the call connects. “Hello, JARVIS. Sorry for calling on the open line. Can you connect me –– what? No, come on...”

Maria frowns, and waits. Then: “Hi, Pepper, I’m sorry, but whatever this is will have to...” Maria trails off. She throws suspicious look over her shoulder at the rest of them. “How do you know that?”

Whatever the reply is, it makes Maria roll her eyes, and then purse her lips. “Not hostile, but wouldn’t trust them with my hypothetical grandmother, either. They’re not about to blow up Manhattan at least. But I told them Thor will pay them when they get me back to earth, so I don’t see how I could avoid involving the team. Why?”

She listens to the reply and grimaces. “God, you have a point there. But I still need to pay them, and they’re getting twitchy. Do you have a better idea?” Her jaw drops. “What??? Take them to LA? Are you crazy???”

“LA? Los Angeles?” The boy who calls himself Starlord pipes up, and Christine realizes she isn’t the only one listening in on Maria’s call. Judging from Maria’s expression, she didn’t realize it herself. “No,” she barks. “We are _not_ going to Los Angeles.”

“Does it look less like a dump than this place?” the raccoon asks.

Christine smiles at it. Him. Whatever. “Definitely. It’s a big, coastal city, famous for it’s night life.”

Maria looks like she wants to throttle her. Well, too bad – she’d risk more than that to see what this bag of crazy will do when they get on the Strip. Oh, this will be fun.

“Yeah! Hollywood!” Peter Starlord looks like a kid on Christmas. “Come on, lets go!”

“Mind if I hitch a ride?” Christine asks him. He waves a hand at the ship in a grand gesture. “Come on board, ma’am.”

“This is a terrible idea,” Maria mutters behind her.

Christine ignores her and turns to the boy. “So, how do I get on board of this thing?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ~~grand~~ mild finale.

Flying a spaceship into Los Angeles should be harder than this, Maria thought, as Milano hovered over the SI Los Angeles private heliport. Once this was sorted out, she had to fix that. It was just luck that Milano was friendly.

She looked at the beings around her and reminded herself that “friendly” was a relative term. Drax was an obvious threat, if nothing else then for his physical build. Rocket was armed to the teeth and carried the nervy restlessness of a soldier too long in a war zone. Gamora was no different, even if she hid it better. Even Quill, however affable he looked, could be a threat.

The only harmless creature on this ship was probably the tree. Careful, Maria reminded herself. It talks, for goodness sake.

“So you’re saying you’re actually human?”

Ah, yes, speaking of threats. Christine was standing behind Quill’s seat, draped over the backrest and watching him maneuver the ship down onto the tarmac.

“Christine, could you please not distract the man who is trying to land this very big ship on this very small heliport?” Maria intoned. ‘Hands up and slowly step away from the impressionable alien’, is what she would rather liked to say, but knowing Christine, that would just spur her on.

“Hey, that’s alright, I’ve landed in worse places,” Quill said. Maybe he really was distracted - it wasn’t like him to pass on such a good chance to brag.

“And not human,” he continued, “or, well, not all human. Just... from Earth.”

Maria hummed. Not distracted, then. Subdued, or even nervous.

“How long have you been away?” Christine asked gently.

“It’s been a while,” he replied, with eyes fixed on the controls.

“Welcome back to Earth, then,” Christine patted his shoulder. “You’ll like it - we have dril, and vine, and Rihanna.”

Quill turned to her after that. “I’m pretty sure we had drills and wine back when I was a kid.”

“Not that kind, Starboy,” Christine grinned. “Now eyes up front, or Maria will throw me out of the safety hatch.”

“The Milano does not have a safety hatch,” Drax murmured from his seat.

“Metaphor!” came from several mouths, and a tiny “I am Groot!” from the back of the ship.

Finally, the spaceship lurched and stood still. Out of the cockpit, they could see what in Maria’s security assessments was referred only as “Pepper’s LA place”.

Built into the top floor of the brand new SI building, it was a two-story penthouse with living quarters on the last full floor, and a “studio” with a rooftop terrace above it. The terrace was paneled with light wood, a tall wooden fence and raised flowerbeds with ornamental grasses providing some amount of privacy. Through the length of it twined a series of water features, a combination of low cascades and shallow pools with pebbles on the bottom.

It looked like a security nightmare. In reality, it was a fortress. It was designed to withstand almost anything - hopefully, including aliens.

The passengers of the Milano piled out onto the tarmac. Pepper and her people were already waiting for them. It was an eclectic group of ambassadors: one trained soldier, seemingly unarmed; one powered civilian; one scientist; one millennial.

This was a gamble, Maria knew. They were non-threatening, with experience in negotiation and non-violent alien encounters... but if things turned ugly, seriously underpowered.

Pepper’s professional expression suddenly twitched with annoyance. When Maria followed her line of sight, she found Christine, already a few steps to the side of both groups and with her phone filming. Uh oh, Maria thought, this might be a problem.

“Hello everyone,” she jumped into the introductions. “This is Virginia Potts, CEO of Stark Industries, Colonel James Rhodes, United States Air Force, Doctor Jane Foster, and, uh, Darcy Lewis. This,” she turned, “are the Guardians of the Galaxy.” Now, that was a hard intro to pull off with a straight face. But she plowed on:”Peter Quill, Gamora, Rocket, Drax, and...”

“I’m Groot!”

“...that.”

Pepper was the first to cross the few feet between the groups. “Pleasure to meet you,” she smiled and bowed slightly, clearly opting for a greeting that was the least likely to be misinterpreted.

“Likewise, ma’am,” Quill dimpled and offered a handshake.

Pepper shook his hand without hesitation. “Thank you for helping Maria get back home. I am sure we will find a satisfactory compensation for your effort.”

Quill smiled brightly, and a bit of stiffness went out of Maria’s spine. First step: down.

“You do not look like Thor, prince of Asgard,” Drax pronounced gravely.

“He is, unfortunately, busy right now,” Pepper replied. “I am sure we can arrange a meeting in the future.”

“Yeah, yeah, enough of smalltalk,” Rocket interrupted. “When are we getting paid.”

That was when Maria noticed it - the subtle but unmistakable sound of a helicopter propeller.

“Pepper, how about we take this inside? The ship sticks out like a sore thumb, we’re going to get swarmed by the media any minute.”

“That’s not a problem,” Pepper replied. “Tony has a contingency plan for just this situation. JARVIS, engage the Lampshade protocol.”

“Dammit!” Maria heard behind her. When she turned, she saw Christine poking at her phone angrily. “How are you even jamming a smartphone camera???”

“Effectively, it seems,” Pepper retorted smugly. “And now, since you have nothing else to do here, please, leave the property.”

Christine pocketed her phone and started towards Pepper. Somehow, she managed to look like a shark in an Armani, despite wearing a crumpled pant suit and dusty sneakers. “Now, Ms Potts, I am here on an invitation by the Guardians of the Galaxy - is that right, Peter?”

“Yeah,” Quill replied. His open smile slid into a confused frown. Behind him, the rest of the Guardians were shifting uneasily.

Alright, Maria thought, that’s enough. “Pepper, Christine, a moment?” She all but dragged them behind the nearest clump of ornamental grass. “Ladies, would you kindly remain professional and not endanger the negotiations with a group of potentially hostile extra-terrestrials?”

“I would love to!” Christine retorted. “But I’m not the one throwing a hissy fit and kicking people out, am I?”

Pepper took a deep breath, but Maria was faster. “Christine, that Quill took you on the ship doesn’t mean I’ll let you complicate this already complicated situation. You are on Stark Industries property, and we can throw you out, legally even.”

“Hmmm,” Christine pretended to think, “I wonder how that will look to the aliens.”

Maria gritted her teeth. “What do you want, Christine?”

“I want exclusive coverage,” Christine replied. “I want to be there for the negotiation, I want interviews with the aliens.”

“Seriously?” Pepper was outraged.

Maria put a hand on her shoulder. She might have imagined it, but she thought she felt heat rising through Pepper’s jacket.

“You can sit on the negotiations,” she told Christine curtly. “But only as an observer, and the article will be looked over by someone from the Avenger’s Initiative before it goes public. With the interviews you’re on your own - we won’t prevent you, but if they don’t agree to it it’s your own problem.”

“Agreed,” Christine said quickly.

“Pepper?” Maria asked.

Pepper gave her a furious look. Maria looked back at her, wordlessly imploring her to be reasonable.

“Yes,” Pepper ground out, finally.

“Good. Lets not keep the aliens waiting any longer.”

If Maria even imagined what meeting the aliens would be like - and she never was the type, even as a fresh SHIELD recruit - she would have never imagined it like this. With guns and people in tactical suits, maybe. Or, later, with Avengers looking just as bizarre as the aliens themselves.

But definitely not in a yoga-chic studio, where the humans and aliens were lounging on beanbags and pillows, watching 3D visualizations and discussing the resale value of vanilla beans.

But, so far, it seemed to be working. Maria was confident to leave most of the talking to Pepper. Potts was no novice at negotiation, dealing with larger-than-life personalities... or at general weirdness, especially after the last few years. The issue with Christine notwithstanding. Maria understood - everyone had their sore spot, and “people threatening Tony Stark” was Pepper’s.

And this, too, worked out reasonably well. Christine was currently sitting to the side, hanging on every word and gesture while furiously typing into her phone.

The rest of the humans seemed comfortable with being just spectators. Colonel Rhodes was sitting on Pepper’s left, doing his best to appear non-threatening while paying attention to everything. Maria wasn’t sure if he had his suit somewhere nearby, but even without it he might be useful in a scuffle.

Jane Foster was avidly following the negotiations. This wasn’t exactly her field, but her life experiences were turning her into quite a xeno-ethnologist. That, or she was listening for mentions of useful technology.

Her assistant was doing god-knows-what on her phone. Hopefully, she was instructed not to get involved. Hopefully, she would listen.

“These chili peppers? We will need a hundred pounds of those.” Rocket said.

The talking raccoon was sitting cross-legged on a big pillow. He looked like a children’s toy, and the only thing helping Maria fight that impression was the big, ugly gun on his lap.

Quill inhaled sharply and his eyebrows shot up. “A moment, please,” he asked Pepper hastily. He scooted away from them and dragged Rocket’s pillow with him, to allow them at least an illusion of privacy.

“Hey, hands off!” Rocket yelped.

“Are you kidding?” Quill hissed at him. “No, you’re not doing this again.”

“What? I want em. I bet they’ll sell.”

“You want them? Like that peg leg the last time, huh? Nope, you’re not getting away with it this time.”

“Oh, so you don’t trust me?” Rocket growled at him.

“Could we have this discussion some other time, please?” Gamora asked irritably.

“I am Groot.”

“Oh, shove that in a pipe and smoke it,” Rocket snapped at him.

“I do not think the tree is able to smoke anything,” Drax murmured.

“Ignore it, Drax, that’s just Rocket being his charming self,” Quill bit off.

“I am Groot!”

“Gentlemen, how about we put aside the topic of spices for now, and look at other cultural items?” Pepper cut in, sounding as smooth and friendly as always. “What are your thoughts on collectibles?”

The Guardians blinked at her for a moment.

“Uh... good?” Quill stammered.

“Good,” she said with a smile. “We can decide on precise quantities of the spices later.” She flicked her fingers and the set of 3D models of various food items levitating between them dissolved, replaced with a new cluster. “As for the cultural artifacts, we were thinking either historical, or contemporary.”

And just like that, the negotiation was back on track. Nicely done, Maria thought. Superpowers or not, this was what she would always admire on Pepper the most - leading people around by the smallest pressure, applied at the right place and the right moment.

She and Pepper had a rocky start. But as soon as Maria proved she would be reasonably loyal to SI, it developed into an uneasy alliance and then, a tentative friendship. They both had their loyalties, but until those strings pulled too hardly in opposite directions, they knew they were better off working together.

Slowly, the agreement took shape. What goods do you pay an alien for a taxi service across the galaxy? Raw materials - not unique or valuable, but should be easy to exchange for money. Foodstuffs, as supplies and for sale - taste test pending. Tchotchkes and souvenirs - exotic artifacts sold well and apparently, Quill had some experience. Services - food and housing whenever they would need it, and some small repairs if they gave SI engineers access to the blueprints. That had the Guardians narrow their eyes at Pepper, but at that point they were more impressed by the sheer audacity than offended, and too charmed to refuse.

The line has been drawn at weapons. Rocket asked about them, but Maria excused it by mentioning US export laws. There were laws about exporting all the other things too, but the aliens didn’t need to know that. No way was she giving human weapons to extraterrestrials. The threat wasn’t big - they would almost surely seem archaic compared with their own production - but humans were very inventive with ways to kill and Maria didn’t want to risk it.

“That’s it, then!” Pepper announced. “Would you like me to prepare a paper document to sign, or is an audio recording enough for you?” she asked.

“Audio will be enough,” Gamora said.

“If you can get it on something we can actually play,” Rocket snorted.

“I am sure we will sort it out somehow,” Pepper said with a smile. “Now, would you like some refreshments? We would have to get it delivered, but it shouldn’t take long.”

“Done!” Darcy piped up, not even looking up from her phone. “Should be here any minute. I got Chinese, Indian, Italian, burgers, and some European fusion cuisine thing - they’ll bring ingredient lists so you can check allergens and shit. What?” she dragged her eyes from the screen when everyone turned to stare at her. “JARVIS has a chat interface!”

Good answer, wrong question, thought Maria, who up to now assumed the girl wasn’t paying attention to the world around her. Wrong, apparently.

In a few minutes, the food was delivered and handed out, drinks poured, and everyone settled out on the terrace to enjoy the late night chill. And that’s how the adventure ends, Maria thought, with a wading pool party in LA at the asscrack of dawn. She stopped by Pepper and Colonel Rhodes, who were sitting on a bench with a bottle of scotch and a set of glasses. Pepper handed her a drink and Maria accepted it with a grateful smile.

“The aliens drive a mean bargain, huh?” she joked.

Pepper chuckled. “They do, they really do. Even the tree.”

Maria laughed. She turned towards the pool, where Jane, Darcy, Rocket and Drax were sitting at the edge, legs dipped in the water. As she watched, Groot climbed out of the pot he’s spent all this time in, shook the soil off his tiny legs, and sat between Rocket and Jane.

“Oh my God,” Rhodes groaned, and Maria almost choked on her scotch. Pepper put her hand over her mouth and shook with silent laughter.

“You know, Jane, I think this is our best alien encounter so far,” Darcy said. “What do you think? Just chillin’ around the pool, no stress.”

“The temperature is quite low, but I do not feel discomfort,” Drax rumbled.

“Sure, dude.”

Quill and Christine disappeared as soon as the food arrived. The last Maria saw them, they were heading towards the ship. Maria sighed and hoped that wouldn’t end terribly.

And Gamora... Maria looked around and spotted her leaning on the railing of the upper terrace, up on the roof of the studio. She grabbed a a spare drink and left Pepper and Rhodes to themselves.

She walked up the stairs and joined Gamora at the railing. From there, she could see the lower terrace, the ship, and the city, glinting under a sky slowly brightening by early dawn. She offered Gamora one of the glasses.

“Would you like some whisky? Unless you can’t have alcohol. Or barley...hm, starches? Maybe gluten?” Maria chuckled. “That taste test might get complicated.”

“Not for me,” Gamora replied. “My body has been modified to metabolize all toxins. And,” she turned to Maria with a wry look, “we do have alcohol-based drinks in space, you know.”

“Is that a yes on the scotch?” Maria asked, laughing.

Gamora rolled her eyes and accepted the glass. She sniffed at it and took a small sip, rolling the liquid on her tongue.

“Hmm,” she tilted her head speculatively. “Not bad. It could be sweeter.”

Maria bit her tongue to stop herself from blurting out something about girly drinks. They weren’t quite at that level, yet.

Someone stomped on the stairs and a moment later appeared Jane Foster with her assistant in tow.

“Um, am I interrupting? Sorry. I just wanted to apologize for this whole incident. I am really, really sorry, Maria - uh, Ms Hill. It was an accident! If I knew somebody would be coming... I just needed one more sensor and as I’ve said, repeatedly, the laboratory is not big enough for my purposes -”

“Apology accepted,” Maria jumped in. “But please, make sure you follow the security protocol from now on. I would have thought that spending a year in UK would be a better influence.” Maria rewound the last sentence in her head. “wait, how are you even here?”

“We asked Heimdall for help, and then he sent us here when we were leaving,” Jane replied.

“Oh,” Maria blinked slowly. Right. Dating Asgardian royalty.

“Anyone wants a corn-dog?” Darcy leaned from behind Jane with a paper plate. “They came with the ‘Classic Americana’ order. No?” She turned to Gamora. ”By the way, gotta tell you, the green skin is the bomb. Not quite green-skinned space babe, with that death glare - yep! that’s the one! - but a pretty solid Elphaba. Definitely not a Kermit.” She nodded and bit into a corn dog. “The gray dude with the red thingies, also cool! Did not know I have that kink.”

“Please, don’t,” Maria groaned.

“Ha! Don’t worry, the language barrier is too much.” Darcy waved her off.

“But we all speak Terran,” Gamora said slowly.

“Yeah, but I don’t speak Literal,” Darcy scrunched her nose. “But!” her face lit up, “you I actually understand! Soooo... if you’re interested, I would happily show you some Terran customs. IfyouknowwhatImean, wink wink nudge nudge.”

“HEY! HILL!!! IS THIS YOURS???”

Luckily for Darcy’s life and Maria’s sanity, they were interrupted by Peter Quill, yelling from the open cockpit of the Milano and waving something above his head.

“Jane!” Darcy yelped and grabbed Jane’s arm. “Is that Wilbur? That’s Wilbur!!!” She ran for the stairs, pulling Jane with her.

“Sorry!” Jane shouted over her shoulder as she was dragged down the stairs. If she was repeating her own apology or apologizing for Darcy’s... Darcy, wasn’t entirely clear.

There was a moment of silence as Maria and Gamora watched the women run across the terrace and disappear into the ship.

“Sorry about that,” Maria offered.

Gamora shrugged. “She was hardly the first one to proposition me, or the most blatant.”

“Not surprised at all,” Maria blurted. “I mean,” she coughed. Smooth, Maria, smooth.

Gamora kept her eyes on the garden below, but her mouth twitched. “So these are not your Avengers, I take it?” she changed the topic.

“No,” Maria agreed. “They’ll probably appear sooner or later, but Pepper suggested that this might need a lighter touch.”

Gamora hummed. “Probably a good choice,” she admitted. “None of us are very good at... talking things through.”

“Neither are the Avengers,” Maria sighed.

“Who is Pepper Potts, then, if not an Avenger?” Gamora asked.

Maria considered it. “You know, I’m not sure why she isn’t yet.” She shook her head. “She is... support personnel, in military terms, but that undervalues both her skill and the authority she has. She makes things go as they’re supposed to.”

“And you?” Gamora asked. “Are you the leader? Everyone seems to defer to you, at least to some degree.”

“Ha! No, I’m just a small fish,” Maria shook her head. “I do my job and do it well, but I’ll gladly leave saving the world to the big guys. That’s just not for me.”

“I don’t know,” Gamora mused, “I liked it... saving the world. A chance to pay back for some of the things I’ve done.”

Maria looked at her and wondered if she would ever get to know the full story. She found she really wanted to.

Gamora suddenly stiffened. “What’s that?” she twitched her head minutely towards the sky.

Maria looked that way and sighed. “Looks like you’re going to meet an Avenger tonight, after all.”

“Ms Potts, Sir is about to arrive,” JARVIS announced. Barely a moment later, Iron Man touched down on the tarmac. He left his arms down, but didn’t lift his faceplate.

“Pepper, what the hell? Why is there a spaceship on my helipad?” his voice sounded metallic through the speakers, and a bit strained.

“Tony!” Pepper walked up to him quickly. “My helipad,” she said sweetly and knocked on his faceplate. When he lifted it, she kissed him on the cheek. “I did leave you a message.”

“’Don’t worry, we’ll handle it’???” Stark asked incredulously? “Really, Pep?”

“We did!” she replied. “Here, let me introduce you to the Guardians of the Galaxy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go - finally! After waiting _3 years_ for a 10k fic. Folks, I am so, so sorry. If anyone who has been was waiting for this thing to finally get completed is actually reading this - I sincerely apologize. I learned my lesson (which involves things like 'never, ever start posting a WIP again'). 
> 
> Either way, it's done. I hope you enjoy the complete story as much as I enjoy having it off my back.
> 
> And look! There is even an Avenger in there!


End file.
